


(you) help the flowers bloom

by courageous_boss



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Bruce is a Lawyer, Gen, No Batman, No Vigilantes in Gotham
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 07:12:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17279459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courageous_boss/pseuds/courageous_boss
Summary: Robin needs help so he goes to Bruce Wayne - a district attorney.Join Bruce and Robin as they face a new world of galas, Superman, speedsters, school, and family.or, Bruce and Robin learn that keeping secrets causes pain and confusion. Too bad they both keep so many.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Game Plan](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/446135) by Disney Channel. 



> unbetaed; all errors are mine

Bruce was the brain of the firm: clients came seeking his wits and loyalty, trusting that he’d defend them no matter the crime (once they’d been innocent, of course). But, Lucius Fox was the heart. He put his blood, sweat, and tears into their partnership, and without him, the clients would have fled before Bruce could properly offer any help.

So, when his secretary buzzed a cryptic message through, Bruce didn’t question it too much.

“Your one o’clock is here, Mr. Wayne,” Lucius' voice came in tilted with amusement.

Bruce had that hour scheduled free. He checked his appointment book, flipping the page and rubbing a thumb gently over the paper, as if hoping to magically reveal hidden words. Nothing. Still, he pressed at his intercom. He couldn’t keep the cheeky lilt out of his voice as he buzzed back, “You got me a surprise?”

Lucius huffed out a laugh, the sound muffled through the speakers but still very pleased and excited. “Surprising is an appropriate word.”

“A cutie I’m sure. I won’t settle for anything less than the best,” Bruce said coyly, unconsciously loosening his tie. It was no secret that he enjoyed a slightly promiscuous dating life. After all, he was only human. How could he deny the benefits of being Gotham’s Prince?

“Cute indeed, Mr. Wayne. Shall I send them in?”

“Of course, Lucius. But don’t think you’re winning any of my favours for this. Though I must say I appreciate you taking initiative.”

Lucius laughed again before Bruce heard the click of his door’s lock being undone. He leaned forward onto his elbows, positioning his body to show off his lean figure and muscled arms. For someone stuck behind a desk all day, he did admit to having a very fit form, and he never hesitated to hide it from the ladies.

The door edges open and Bruce flirted, “Well, hello…”

A tiny boy, short and scrawny with big, blue eyes that were too wide for his face stumbled in. His eyes widened even larger when he saw Bruce, looking almost like an owl with how much of him was just his dazzling, confused eyes. He couldn’t even be ten years old yet, swaddled in a large, ratty, stained sweater and peeking out from under a mess of curls. His hair was dark and thick, and his skin was a shade of honey-like brown – golden and warm. He offered up a flimsy smile, shoving his hands politely behind his back, but Bruce had noticed his fingers shaking.

“Good af’ernoon, Mr. Wayne,” the boy bowed. He was adorable, Bruce would give him that. But he wasn’t five foot something and garbed in a skimpy dress, so why had Lucius sent him in?

“Afternoon,” Bruce leaned back, suddenly uncomfortable with his looming position now that the target was a child. “Are you lost? Should I call security? They can help you find your parents.”

The boy flinched, shoulders stiffening and eyes sliding shut for a few, tense moments before he began whispering to himself. It was only when he opened his eyes and braved another shaky smile did Bruce recognize the whispering as a counting exercise to control his breathing.

“Sir, I would like for you to take my case,” the boy said. His voice was soft and sweet, lifting with an accent so unlike the thick, heavy Gotham one that Bruce felt lighter just hearing it.

Trusting that Lucius had had some reason for sending the boy in (and hoping that it wasn’t just to embarrass him), Bruce decided to humour the child. He’d had a slow day anyway and Alfred would be glad to hear the story later.

“Well, then,” Bruce nodded, pointing at the chair reserved for clients, “come sit.”

The boy’s eyes widened and for a second, he looked shocked before he scrambled up the chair. Curled up, he looked so much smaller that Bruce felt his stomach grow uneasy. A child this age surely should be left unsupervised. Had the boy snuck away from careless parents, or were there responsible adults waiting in the lobby? Bruce couldn’t be sure at the moment, but he made a mental note to check with Lucius about that later.

For now, Bruce pulled out a sheet for client information, “So, what’s your name?”

Surprisingly, the boy answered immediately, fingers still trapped under his thighs to hide any fidgeting. His voice was steady and focused when he spoke. “Um… I actually need your help for my friend. Do I say his name? Or mine?”

Bruce smiled lightly. “Your name will do.”

The boy paused, lips trembling with effort before he pushed forward, “Robin.”

Bruce frowned. There was something off with this child. Something about him seemed frayed and fragile, but maybe he was just being paranoid. It had been years since he’d least interacted with a child. Maybe they all seemed this helpless.

“Okay, Robin,” Bruce jotted his name down, not pushing for a last name. “Why do you need my services?”

“It’s my friend,” Robin reiterated.

Bruce blinked. “Yes. I’m sorry. Why does your _friend_ need a lawyer?”

“You can't tell anyone what I tell you, right?” Robin began squirming, pulling his legs up to tuck under himself and looking incredibly anxious.

“Not a soul,” Bruce mimed zipping his lips shut.

“Someone did a horrible thing and people got hurt. Very hurt,” Robin said, eyes meeting Bruce’s.

Bruce swallowed, feeling it get stuck in his throat. The boy’s eyes – they were incredible. The bright blue colour was unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Even in the harsh lighting od his office, they glittered and shone with a hundred different emotions. It was almost mesmerizing.

“What do you mean by hurt?” Bruce jotted the boy’s words down.

“I mean,” the boy – Robin – whispered, voice falling almost reverent, “they were murdered.”

This had Bruce sitting up, concern wrought across his face. “Who is your friend? Who was killed?”

Robin shook his head. “I can’t tell you. I just need your help, sir.”

“What do you mean? If I’m to be your lawyer, you need to tell me all the details.”

Robin suddenly looked away, eyes hidden from Bruce’s sight. “I can’t tell you exactly what happened. I don’t have to money to pay you. Even if I did, this is something that I – my friend, I mean – needs to do himself.”

“What you’re saying here is serious business. A child cannot be trusted to resolve this!” Bruce snapped, making fast notes on Robin’s sheet. Every word, every small movement, every microexpression of the child was being recorded. Later, Bruce would comb through the details and pick out as many clues as possible.

“Please, sir!” Robin cried, eyes still trained elsewhere. “I can’t tell you what happened. I wish I could, but it’s too dangerous. Please help me!”

Bruce felt heat going to his head. He had promised that he would keep the boy’s words confidential, and he would keep to his word. However, Bruce was pretty sure that the friend that the boy kept referring to was Robin himself. If that was true, then the child could actually be in danger.

“I can help get you safe,” Bruce tried offering.

This time, Robin finally turned to look at him. Bruce’s chest suddenly ached when he caught sight of Robin’s eyes. There was deep pain and terror wreaking havoc within them. The boy’s eyes were like looking glasses into his emotions and just showing them off made Bruce’s will waver.

Growing desperate, Bruce said, “Alright, I will help you. On three conditions.” He had to ensure that the boy didn’t bolt. He could be of no help if he only had his first name and a generic description of a child.

 Robin took a deep, shuddery breath and nodded softly. Already, the storm within his eyes was dimming into something softer.

“One, you have to promise to attend every meeting we schedule. If you miss even one of them without a good excuse, I will take that as a sign that you are not serious about this. I won’t have you wasting my time,” Bruce stated.

“Yes, sir,” Robin agreed dutifully.

“Two, when you are in my office, you will behave properly. I won’t have patience for childish mischief,” Bruce said.

Robin agreed again. This condition Bruce was sure the boy would fulfill easily. He didn’t seem like a naughty child and was actually very timid for a boy his age.

“Third, you can’t give me false information. If you need to omit some details to protect your _friend’s_ identity, then tell me when you are doing to do so. I need to know this to do my job properly,” Bruce said finally.

Robin barely contemplated the condition before he agreed.

“I guess we have an agreement, then,” Bruce nodded.

A small smile lifted Robin’s lips and his defensive stature was slowly unravelling. His let his legs hang from the chair, kicking them back and forth since they couldn’t reach the floor. Bruce set up meeting times with the child, scheduling a meeting every day at one. That was his only free hour at work, but it was also the only time he truly had to spare. The evening was too late to conceivably set a meeting with a young child and the morning was when Bruce went to the gym. It was a small sacrifice to make. There was something eerie about the boy. He wasn’t quite like a child. He barely spoke or smiled, and his energy levels were greatly subdued. It was Bruce’s concern for the boy’s wellbeing that encouraged him to set frequent meeting for when he could check on him.

When they finished, Bruce spoke into the intercom again, “Lucius?”

“Yes, Mr. Wayne?” Lucius spoke, sounding thoroughly amused and excited.

Bruce rolled his eyes, a small grin gracing his lips. “The meeting is over. Would you please help Robin to a snack and some juice before he leaves?”

“Of course,” Lucius said before the sound of the lock being undone was heard.

Robin couldn’t hide how he perked up excitedly at the mention of a snack. “Thank you, sir.”

“See you tomorrow, Robin,” Bruce said. As he watched the boy climb off the chair a skip away, he couldn’t help but chuckle. Alfred would truly be amused when he explained this oddity of a child. Hopefully, the murders weren’t truly as the child claimed. Once Bruce was able to resolve that problem, he could see to ensuring that the boy’s parents were more mindful of his whereabouts.


	2. two

Bruce found himself waiting in his office the next with not only one home cooked meal – but two. Of course, he’d told Alfred all about his newest, strange client. He’d expected the old man to find the situation baffling and amusing. It wasn’t every day that a child barely tall enough to reach the door handles came marching into his practice. However, Alfred had been far less pleased with how Bruce handled the situation than he’d hoped for. After some ear pulling and a short, stern lecture about protecting children, Bruce had been briefed on symptoms of neglect, abuse and a few mental and physical illnesses the boy may possess. Then, Alfred had sworn that he’d be packing the two of them a proper meal to eat during their meeting.

“Mr. Wayne,” Lucius’s mischievous voice buzzed through the intercom again, “Your one o’clock is here.”

Bruce replied, “Send him in.”

“Of course,” Lucius said before the tell-tale sound of the door unlocking clicked. The man really was having too much fun with this. He’d teased Bruce endlessly about the situation after Robin had left yesterday.

Robin was there again, this time dressed in a thin jersey and shorts, both of which were much cleaner and neater than what he’d worn before. He stood at the edge of the doorway, clutching his hands to his chest and staring resolutely at Bruce.

“Don’t just stand there,” Bruce waved him in, “come in.”

“Thank you, sir,” Robin chirped, sliding into the room. He kept a meek pose the entire time, sitting calmly on the edge of his seat with his hands folded in his lap.

Bruce couldn’t fathom this sudden outpouring of manners. Yesterday, Robin had gone as far as to snap at him when he tried to demand information. Today, the boy seemed shy and even a little intimidated.

“First matter of business,” Bruce smirked, reaching into his desk to retrieve the lunches, “have you eaten yet?”

Robin’s gaze suddenly met his, eyes wide and shining in shock. “W-What?”

“Lunch, child. Have you eaten lunch?”

“Oh,” Robin swallowed, a blush coating his cheeks as he contemplated. Before he could answer, his stomach rumbled, the small noise travelling across the room.

Bruce chuckled, sliding one bowl across the table, “I guess that answers that. Eat first. Then we’ll get started.”

Robin hesitated for a few moments, eyes flittering between the food and Bruce a few times before he finally pulled the food onto his lap and began to eat.

“Oh, wow. It’s really good,” Robin said, swallowing a huge bite. He was smiling lightly now and seemed less skittish than before.

“Yes. It’s my butler, Alfred, who made it. He’s a very good cook.”

“You’re lucky,” Robin said, shoveling enough food into his mouth that his cheeks puffed up like a squirrel, “to get to eat delicious food all the time.”

Bruce laughed as Robin tried to swallow down his huge bites, “I’ll be sure to pass your compliments along. Now, tell me, about yourself. What do you like to do for fun?”

“For fun?” Robin repeated. He’d cleaned out most of his bowl and was now scraping the remnants sticking to the sides.

“Yes. For me, it’s volunteering at the animal clinic at the zoo. You might not believe it, but I like animals quite a bit. Working with the veterinarians and specialists lets me give back to the animals and I get to learn about them. It’s very exciting.”

“I believe you, sir,” Robin said. If Bruce hadn’t been so busy focusing on his meal, he would have noticed the reverent, soft look in Robin’s eyes.

“Call me Bruce, please. So, what do you like to do?”

This time, Bruce was looking, so he saw the deep, red blush settle on Robin’s cheeks as he admitted, “Dancing. I used to do ballet before I moved the Gotham.”

“Ballet?”

“Yes, sir. I mean, Bruce. My mother began teaching it to me. I stopped when I came to live here.”

“Why?”

“Why ballet? It’s amazing. If you close your eyes, sometimes you feel like a flying bird. It’s so beautiful.”

 Bruce swallowed. The boy spoke with such passion, such fascination, that it was hard to place his words with the young child before him. Some people lived their whole live without truly feeling so enthused with anything; Robin was lucky to have discovered his calling so young in life.

“I really meant to ask why did you stop? You sound like you love dancing,” Bruce said.

“Oh,” Robin shrugged. “The lessons are too expensive here. When I’m older, I’ll get a job to pay for them. I’m too young now.”

“I see. That’s a shame,” Bruce mused, feeling strangely disappointed. “How about we start now? Have you finished eating?”

“Yes, sir, Bruce. I’m finished. Thank you for the food,” Robin spouted off, returning the bowl to the table.

“Okay, just tell me everything you can about what happened. Remember to tell me when you are omitting information.”

Robin shifted, pulling out a sheet of folded paper from his pocket. He unfolded it, laying the blank, lineless page on the desk and grabbing the pen that was on the table.

“So, it was a murder. I’m sure of it. I think I even know who was responsible, but I can't be as sure of that,” Robin said, jotting his words down as Bruce had done the day before.

If it weren’t for the morbid nature of Robin’s words, Bruce couldn’t find himself amused. It was almost like a child playing dress up – with Robin imitating what he’d seen Bruce doing.

“Hold on,” Bruce got out a sheet of lined paper and gave it to the boy. “Take you notes on this instead. You have to be neat with your work.”

Robin immediately transcribed when he’d already written, looking up when he’d finished. “So, what would I need to do first?”

Bruce smirked, “Your friend, you mean. You did say that they wanted to do the job their self.”

“Yes, of course,” Robin avoided Bruce’s knowing look. “What would my friend need to do first?”

“Well, he needs to make a list of his clues. Documentation is very important for evidence. Since I’m assuming he wants to do the detective work himself, he needs to ensure he does this properly. If not, the case might be discarded.”

Robin wrote that down, face scrunched in concentration.

“Be careful not to engage any known criminals. If you become suspicious, you may be harmed, or they could flee. There can't be a case if the criminals don’t remain in Gotham.” Bruce added, fibbing a bit in an effort to keep the boy safe.

Bruce continued coaching Robin in the finer details of detective work. He didn’t let on that most of what he was saying he’d picked up from watching Saturday Morning cartoons as a child. As he spoke, he tried to study Robin’s behaviour. Based on how thoroughly he’d enjoyed the meal – and his gaunt appearance – Bruce deducted that the boy wasn’t being fed regularly enough. That made him wonder where the child was living. Was it neglectful parent? Was the boy homeless? Was he an orphan? It could simply be that he was a picky eater who’d taken well to Alfred’s cooking. That would be the best explanation, however, Bruce also found it the most unrealistic.

Then, Bruce considered the boy’s uneasy and timid nature. When he’d been speaking about his dancing, Robin had relaxed to such a degree that he had actually resembled a young child. Otherwise, his shoulders were tense and he was constantly high-strung. Even his eyes would constantly dart around, seeking out any strange movement or unwelcomed advanced. This went far past a shy personality; Robin had suffered some sort of trauma that he hadn’t recovered from. He’d lost his childish naivety and trust in adults.

Lastly, Bruce tried to pinpoint the boy’s strange accent. The strongest tint of his speaking voice was something European, with heavy, thick syllables that closely resembled Italian. However, the accent was also warped with other influences. Just from his brief time Bruce had spent with him, he’s noticed American, Indian, Spanish and British accents seeping into Robin’s words. The boy was either well-travelled or raised in a very diverse household. Bruce could also realize that English was not Robin’s first language. He had quite a good grasp of the language – an understanding surpassing his age level for sure – but his sentence structure was sometimes off.

By the time the hour passed, Robin had a determined look on his face. He folded up the paper and tucking it back into his pocket, tapping against it to ensure that it was secure.

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne,” Robin said as he stood, bowing politely.

“It’s no problem, Robin. I want to help your _friend_ put those criminals away. Please be safe. You will return tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, sir. One o’clock.”

Even though Bruce was almost sure that Robin had no way of sourcing lunch, he said, “Don’t bother your parents for a meal. I’ll have Alfred make another lunch for us tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s okay—”

“Nonsense, part of this relationship means that we need to trust each other,” Bruce fibbed again, “What better way to get to know each other than while enjoying Alfred’s cooking?”

Of course, Robin didn’t know any better. He nodded before scurrying outside. Before the door closed again, Bruce could hear the child conversing excitedly with Lucius. Bruce smirked. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one who’d fallen victim to Robin’s charming personality.


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter this time

“Alfred asked me to find out if you had any favourites? He wouldn’t mind making something especially for you,” Bruce told Robin.

They were both eating a coconut curry and rice, something leaning closer to the spicier sort of food that Bruce had noticed Robin preferred. 

Robin shook his head, too polite for a child’s nature and said, “Oh, no, sir. I’m more than happy with what he’s been making.”

“I know,” Bruce smirked, recalling how Robin practically licked his bowl clean every time. “But he insists. You don’t have to answer today, but don’t say I didn’t warn you when he shows up here demanding answers.”

Robin’s eyes widened. The look on his face made it obvious that he was picturing some large, formidable entity instead of the stringy, old man that Alfred truly was. It was times like this, when Robin’s childish imagination controlled his thinking, that the boy looked his young age. He couldn’t be any older than ten, and even that was a stretch. The child was tiny, with short limbs, a wiry frame, and soft features.

“Besides that, he suggested we play a match of checkers,” Bruce said.

It hadn’t taken long for Robin to run out of details to relay during their meeting, especially with how much he was leaving out of his recount. However, Bruce didn’t want him to stop dropping in. He’d put in a request with GCPD – discreet of course – in an attempt to track down Robin’s full name and hopefully more information about his family life. However, nothing was turning up. It could simply be a consequence of the Force’s lackadaisical attitude, or a sign that Robin was homeless or undocumented. Bruce hoped that spending time with the boy would encourage him to open up to him. That way, he wouldn’t have to wait for the police’s investigation to roll through.

“Checkers?” Robin’s head tilted in curiosity, again looked very young and innocent.

“It’s a strategy game. I can teach you, don’t worry,” Bruce said. He would have preferred chess, but Alfred had suggested starting with something with fewer rules involved. With the revelation that Robin had never even heard of checkers before, Alfred’s advice was proving to be spot on.

It was so that Bruce discovered that Robin was near a checkers child prodigy. Bruce had taken it easy on him, leaving many open paths for the boy to make a move against him. He had hoped to foster the boy’s confidence in the game before he moved onto the truly strategic aspect of the gameplay. However, he hadn’t anticipated that Robin would set how won traps and promptly destroy Bruce at the game. The child was euphoric over his win, so Bruce didn’t mention that he’d been hoping for that outcome. Instead, he set the game up again, playing more fairly. Even without holding back, Robin was a master and tactical and advanced thinking. He was planning his moves brilliantly and had come close to beating Bruce several times.

“Are you sure you haven’t played this before?” Bruce asked, truly puzzled. He could almost feel a sweat breaking out on his brow from the mental exertion he was putting out. He couldn’t bear to lose against a child who’d never played before – he’d never hear the end of it from Lucius or Alfred.

“Nope,” Robin shook his head, popping the ‘p’. There was a proud, smug look settling over his features, which looked far more appropriate than the timid, reserved demeanour he usually had.

The ease at which he was getting Robin to relax around him only cemented Bruce’s observation that the boy was no ordinary child. Bruce was many things, and honest was one of them. He could admit to himself that he was not a pro at social interactions. Without a glass of champagne or some glossy, red lips on his skin, he couldn’t hold a conversation to save his life. Children were known to be more forgiving with diversions from social normalities, but Robin seemed too eager for any company to care that he was responsible for nearly all of the dialogue. Bruce butted in occasionally, when the child asked a question or needed to be guided with the rules, but Robin carried the conversation almost one-sidedly.

“Are you sure your older siblings didn’t teach you any tricks?” Bruce asked, hoping to draw some of Robin’s personal information out discreetly.

Instead, Robin clammed up, face paling and shoulders stiffening. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, a thick ball in his throat that he kept swallowing, which only made his chin wobble. He looked on the brink of tears in only a few moments, fingers shaky where he pulled them protectively against his chest.

“Are you alright?” Bruce asked, knowing that is was a foolish question but being unable to stop himself.

“Oh, um, yes. I’m fine,” Robin said, voice thin and brittle. The tears in his eyes were showing up even stronger in his voice. The raw emotion from the boy ignited a sharp, sweeping in Bruce’s chest. The boy looked so vulnerable, so alone, that he felt this unjustified need to protect him.

“Would you like to go another round?” Bruce gestured to the game, hoping to pull the conversation into more neutral, safe territory.

But, there was no hope. Any trace of the childish, innocent, playful Robin that had sat before him not even five minutes age had vanished. In his place sat a hollowed-out child, wearing a mask to hide his emotions and trying valiantly to put up walls to protect himself. The pain in Bruce’s chest grew so sharp that he had to run a hand gently over the area; no amount of gentle prodding loosened the tightness.

“Mr. Wayne? Is it okay if I leave early today?” Robin asked, eyes falling to the bright, red numbers on Bruce’s clock.

There was still twenty minutes left for their hour, but the haunted look on Robin’s face made it seem like torture to suggest he spend the full meeting.

“Are you coming back tomorrow?” Bruce asked.

Robin’s eyes widened, “Of course, Mr. Wayne. I’ve very serious. I really need your help. Please, I promise I’ll come to all of our meetings. I just – I feel—”

“Sick?” Bruce asked. He hadn’t meant to seem like he was threatening the boy, and Robin’s insistence was so desperate that Bruce knew that something was wrong.

“Yes, sir,” Robin admitted.

Bruce let him leave, watching the boy’s tiny frame slink silently out the doors. He pressed on the intercom, curious to hear what would happen outside his office. Robin usually hung around for ten minutes with Lucius, telling jokes and laughing with the man. Lucius had made it tradition to send Robin him with a snack and a pack of juice, something Robin was always extremely grateful for. Today, however, Robin only paid Lucius a quiet, respectful goodbye before he was out of the building.

Bruce’s curiosity of just where Robin came from and returned to after their meeting was growing. And, if his two o’clock meeting hadn’t shaken his world so badly, he might have actually perused the child. However, the next client to walk through his doors was going to pull all of his attention and little Robin’s strange behaviour was soon forgotten.


End file.
